Under Thorne's guidance, the lakeshore resembled a magic beast production line. Every day, a steady stream of wild beasts arrived, had their bloodlines awakened by Thorne, and were sent to the canyon for Tylen to train.
"Report to Lord Lake God: the valley three kilometers west of the lake, occupied by a Hellhound clan, has been seized by our forces."
"Report to Lord Lake God: the sand wolf clan four kilometers east of the lake has been completely annihilated, and their dune is now under our control."
"Report to Lord Lake God: the horned lizard clan two kilometers north of the lake has been wiped out. Their swamp, unsuitable for our habitation, remains unclaimed."
Riders on Red Flame Windchasers constantly brought news to Thorne—mostly victories from Tylen's Sinking Sand Army.
The original canyon grew insufficient, so Thorne had Tylen seize more strategic, hidden sites, repurposing the canyon as a new recruit training ground.
"Report to Lord Lake God: awakened magic beasts now number thirty thousand. Shall we continue nurturing?" Tylen asked, clad in sturdy armor, a bow on his back, and a beast-bone spear in hand—looking imposing.
His attire screamed primitive, a byproduct of the Huang Tribe's sparse numbers and desert life, little different from the beasts.
Yet Thorne's memories recalled the continent's bustling cities and the dwarves—master smiths crafting armor far grander than Tylen's.
"So many already? Slow down for now. Only capture unique wild beasts for awakening; hold off on ordinary ones," Thorne replied.
This scale felt sufficient. Thirty thousand was the region's limit—more would strain resources and the Huang Tribe's manpower.
Thorne also had to guard against the elves. This desert remained under their watch. Lucas might still patrol the outskirts, ready to investigate Thorne's area.
Though Thorne ordered Tylen to conceal the beasts, too many risked detection.
"In the meantime, train ten thousand elite beasts from these thirty thousand into a separate army. Ensure secrecy—no one must know your camp's location," Thorne added.
He felt uneasy. The Sinking Sand Army's recent ruckus might attract Transcendent beasts or elven notice. The other twenty thousand could be sacrificed if needed—this elite ten thousand was his core.
"Yes, Lord Lake God. I'll train your ten thousand elites swiftly," Tylen pledged, ever obedient.
Even so, each month's end saw thirty thousand beasts converge lakeside for Thorne's Blessing—a grand sight, their discipline rivaling human armies.
Under monthly Blessings and spiritual water, both Huang Tribe and beasts grew rapidly. Tylen reached Mortal Tier Level 8, and some beasts hit Level 7.
Yet, evolved from common beasts, their potential capped—Transcendent Tier seemed out of reach.
Thorne tirelessly refined his lake, now nearly halved. Soon, fully refined, he'd ascend to Spiritual Lake—a earth-shaking event.
"Master, I've found something strange. Come see," the Ghost Thorn Tree's voice rang through their soul bond.
Thorne was surprised. The tree, focused on deep rooting for stability—claiming even if its trunk perished, its roots ensured survival—rarely spoke up.
"A treasure underground, perhaps?"
Following its roots, Thorne's perception stretched dozens of meters down to a root tip.
"Here?" Thorne asked, sensing nothing unusual.
The root wiggled like a shake of the head. "Not here—deeper. I retreated, fearing trouble."
They plunged hundreds of meters down. Then Thorne felt it.
Ahead, a thin soil layer blocked the way, but roars echoed beyond.
"A subterranean race beneath us?" Thorne marveled.
Living hundreds of meters below his lake, undetected, astonished him.
"It seems so. The space feels vast—several roots hit this barrier. I didn't dare break through," the tree said.
Its caution belied its once "utterly evil" system label.
Breaking the soil risked unknowns—flooding creatures up could harm the lake or ruin the tree's roots, its lifeline.
Thorne pondered this tricky situation, reluctant to act rashly.
Finally, he decided the tree should pierce a small hole. Thorne would send water through to probe, mimicking natural seepage—unlikely to alert intelligent beings below.
The tree carefully poked a tiny hole and withdrew. Thorne guided lake water down its roots, cautiously controlling the flow through the breach.
At last, the water passed through, entering a new realm.
"Incredible! So close, yet I never noticed," Thorne exclaimed.
The Ghost Thorn Tree, curious but not daring to follow, itched with intrigue beside him.